Today, I thought I’d write an account of the life affirming walk I took along the Pembrokeshire Coast Path – one that is every bit as true as the plethora of similar narratives that are so in vogue at present.
But before I do, you need to understand the circumstances under which I embarked on my trek. Firstly I was somewhat strapped for cash, the state of my finances all the more perilous for want of the 40p I was charged to use the public conveniences, and secondly, I’d just been diagnosed with terminal hay fever.
But desperate though my plight was, these were challenges that prompted me to don my walking boots and start my epic journey – one that I very much hoped would result in my finding myself.
Which I did, not long after, in Saundersfoot, the town where I’d decided to commence my hike.
But no sooner had I alighted from the bus that had taken me there, I suffered one of my blackouts. For what other explanation could there be, for why one second I was biting into an individually wrapped biscotti covered caramel flavoured sponge cake, and the next I was staring at the floor where Hector was devouring what little now remained of it?
After which, things went from bad to worse when I and my canine companion were accosted by an octogenarian member of the Pontypool Women’s Institute, who forced us to give up the bench which we’d just been about to vacate, by fiendishly appearing to be a delightful individual who wished only to engage us in friendly conversation.
Despite such an unsettling start to the day, we nonetheless made our way to the seafront and started along the coastal path to Tenby. Soon we were strolling along, high above the beach and I noticed a black Labrador, not dissimilar in appearance to Hector, splashing happily in the waves. Eager to point out the fun his double was having, I looked around to see where Hector was – only to realise that it was he who was now wreaking havoc two hundred yards away to my left. Amazingly though, having called the hapless hound, he responded immediately, and made his way back to me, choosing a route that involved him clambering over rocks and leaping off one that must have been at least eight feet high.
Unscathed he rejoined me on the footpath and we continued on our way. After walking what seemed like days, but was in fact just an hour and a quarter, we stumbled upon a private beach where, mistaken for John Noakes and Shep, we were invited to join the celebrities who were relaxing there. And so we spent a pleasant hour playing French cricket with Bryn Terfel, the Andrews Sisters, and the Marquis de Sade.
After experiencing such a high, it was perhaps inevitable that I would soon come crashing back to earth. And so it was, at the foot of an exceptional steep hill which seemed to stretch endlessly up to the heavens, I began to ask myself life’s biggest questions – the greatest of all being why so many passers-by seemed drawn to comment on how handsome Hector was, whilst so few seemed inclined to comment similarly regarding my own facial appearance.
Managing somehow to put such concerns to one side, we managed to struggle on until eventually Ye Olde Vape Shop came into view, the establishment famously frequented by Henry VII when he visited Tenby back in the 1400s, marking the end of our walk
And so we reached our journeys end – tired but somehow better for what, man and dog, we’d experienced together.
And amazingly, I’d not sneezed once.
Some musings 